Oakley {BoyxBoy & FIN}

Chapter Two

TWO MONTHS LATER

~~~~

We lie there, sweat rolling down our bodies. Her arms were around my waist while her face was on my chest, trying to catch her breath. She looked up, her brown eyes shimmering with excitement and fatigue. Her chin was pushing my chest, but I didn't mind.

She licked her dry lips and said breathlessly, "Wow, that was great. Can't believe it was our first time."

I chuckled dryly. I moved her arms away from my waist and got out of my bed, stretching my arms and grabbing my clothes from the floor. I held hers and threw them at her.

"W—what are you doing?" She asked nervously. I looked over my shoulder and chuckled, but this time, darkly. She furrowed her eyebrows and gritted her tiny teeth, excitement and fatigue are gone, and anger replaced. "What's so funny? What are you doing?"

"It's cute how you think this was my first time. Honey, you're number twenty-one. You're nothing special," I said coldly. Her eyes flashed with shock and sadness. Her mouth was opening and closing like a gaping fish. I rolled my eyes when she didn't move or say a word. I wanted to wash the blankets and jump on my bed, never waking up.

"If you could move your fat ass, I would like to sleep," I said annoyingly.

She gasped and jumped out of my bed with the blanket wrapped around her. She took her time putting on her clothes. I didn't watch her but instead, bored with her presence. She took notice of that when she stood in front of me fully clothed and slapped me on my face. I stared blankly at her, not affected by her small hit. My grandma could hit harder than that. Plus, they always slap me after we had sex, so I was used to it.

"You fucking asshole! This is why guys like you should die!" She screamed at my face and marched out of my bedroom. I watched her leave the house, my cheek throbbing and my body sore. I clenched my jaw when I saw my broken phone on the floor.

"Bitches are crazy," I muttered and sighed.

I didn't want to lay on cum and sweat. My mother used to clean my sheets because she loved decorating, especially in my room. She would change it to blue, green, yellow, red, purple, any color she enjoyed, and I would accept it (even pink, but only because I didn't want her ranting).

That was before I started having sex. That was before she died.

I took off the sheets and placed them in the washing machine. I wanted to burn them, almost like burning my memories, but I didn't want my dad buying my new sheets every time I finished having sex.

My dad knew I was having sex after my mom passed away. He thought it was natural because I was a hormonal teen boy, but he found out that I was having sex once a week. I wasn't a sex addict. I enjoyed having sex and not give a damn about what they have to say after we did it. It was a release; it was relaxing after doing it. Or, at least, that's how I think. My dad sees me enjoying making girls cry after I tell them the truth. It's not like he's getting any.

I leaned my hip on the washing machine and frowned when I didn't hear anything in the kitchen. I would listen to my mom's footsteps and the pots and pans, causing a disturbing noise whenever she moved them. It meant she was cooking something that my dad and I had to deal with it. Sometimes it delicious; other times it was...edible, but that's only because she was trying new things to mix and match, and it would never work.

I went to my room and sat on the floor. I leaned my head on the mattress and waited for the machine to make that little noise. I heard the front door open and close and my dad's laughter. There was some movement until he came into my room and saw me sitting on the floor. The smile on his face disappeared when he glanced at my mattress. He sighed and rubbed his temples. I groaned and rubbed my hands together. Here we go again.

"I'm going to have to call you back. Okay, see you again, bye," my dad said quickly and placed his phone in his pocket. His light blue eyes darken. He had a scowl on his face, and his knuckles were turning white.

"I thought I told you to stop having sex, Tate. You could get those girls pregnant!" He screamed.

I rolled my eyes and mocked, "I thought I told you to go to hell."

He took a step closer to me and grabbed the collar of my shirt, lifting me from the ground. "I want this behavior to stop right now. How would your mother feel about this, huh? She would go insane!" I glared at him hatefully, pushing him away and walking around him to leave my room.

I hate him so much

I could hear his footsteps behind me. It was always the same thing. "Tate, I didn't mean it," or "Tate, you know I love you, but..."

I turned around, my fists shaking because of the rage inside me. I held back the tears as I stared into my dad's ocean eyes. I prayed to God that I didn't have his eyes because I would be so damn mad. Thank God I had green eyes due to my mother's eyes. It was bad enough he was my father.

"Leave me alone, Curtis," I said with venom on my tongue. He stood there, shocked that I used his first name. I would only call him by his first name when I was joking around or when I kept calling him, never when I was angry. He took a step closer to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off and walked out of Hell I call home.

"Tate, get your ass back here! It's getting dark!" My dad yelled. I flipped him the bird and tried to think of a place to go to. I could go to Aggie, but she must be sleeping by now. She was a goody-two-shoes for her own good.

The only place I had in mind was the cemetery.

~~~

tate is going to be an...interesting character to write. i hope you guys like it! and remember, this is AFTER two months, not BEFORE. comment and vote! also, check out my other new story, Slashed.